


Just One Candle

by PhrancesP



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 15:20:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3072752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhrancesP/pseuds/PhrancesP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phryne serves Jack a hot meal, and he agrees to answer some of her questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Just One Candle

By PhrancesP

 

I set this story at the end of Away with the Fairies. Thank you to Kerry Greenwood for Phryne Fisher, and thank you to Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries for setting the table for Phryne and Jack.

 

Jack Robinson settled into his chair at the end of Phryne Fisher’s dining table.  His mind was whirling.  Had she just told him, in her fashion, that her relationship with Mr. Lin, her lover, was over? Was that why she had called him here for dinner?  There was no “puzzle” to solve, and no murder mystery to pursue together, so this evening was purely social.  Jack felt a bit unsteady as he considered his position.   And now she was lighting the candles.

“Perhaps we could allow ourselves just one candle. What do you think?” Phryne’s question came softly.

“I think I could cope with that.” Jack groaned inside at how stiff and stilted he sounded, but Phryne was smiling at him, so he tried to keep his own smile from coming across as a grimace. He watched the candle flame build from a small flicker to a sturdy blaze. 

Mercifully, Mr. Butler appeared with their wine, and conversation was delayed.  Phryne raised her wineglass slightly towards Jack, and he followed suit automatically. “To Marvin the Malevolent Monitor Lizard,” she said, to his surprise.  Jack laughed, and felt his chest loosen a bit.  “Say that three times fast, Miss Fisher!”  They drank deeply, both feeling the nervous tension fade away.

Mr. Butler brought in a platter of roast beef and a tureen of potatoes au gratin.  Dot followed with a bowl of green beans and a plate of fresh bread. Mr. Butler returned with the wine bottle and arranged the feast on the table between them.  “Thank you, Mr. Butler.  We’ll manage on our own from here.”  Miss Fisher was so natural with her staff.  Jack admired that ability, but he could not overcome his own reserve to relax in their presence.  He wondered if she knew that about him, and if that explained this informal style of dining.  He watched her as she filled his plate.  No hestitation. She had arranged for his favorite foods. Jack rolled his shoulders up and back, just a bit, to loosen his neck.  It was time for him to relax and enjoy the meal.

Jack cut into his beef eagerly and listened, a bit absently, as Phryne told him about her afternoon.  She had taken Dot to the bank and helped her to open up an account. Dot was thrilled to deposit the check that she had earned in her temporary role as Artemis, the Agony Aunt. Phryne was pleased, too, because the new bank account would make it easier for her to give Dot some extra money along the way.  “It really is more practical than a hope chest, you know.  She is so traditional – sewing and knitting is all very well, but women need financial freedom, too.”

Jack agreed.  While eating he thought a bit about the discussions that he and Rosie, his wife, were having about her financial future after their pending divorce was final. Rosie refused to discuss money with Jack. She was from a wealthy family, unlike Jack, and she was uncomfortable with the topic.  Her father was more than capable of keeping her comfortable, and she did not want to discuss her future needs.  She just wanted the divorce.  Jack suspected that she had already found a new man, but he could not ask her.

Phryne patted her lips with her napkin and leaned back against her chair.  “Penny for your thoughts, Jack?”  He smiled wryly at her.  “I’m off duty. My thoughts are free for the taking.” Phryne leaned forward. She toyed with the lighter, still near the candelabra.  “I’ll have to shed a little light on the subject. Maybe just one more candle?” Jack nodded, numbly. She rose from her chair and dimmed the light from the chandelier.  She pulled her chair closer to him as she rejoined him.  “Jack, in so many ways you are a closed book to me. Or, if not a closed book, then a blank notebook, and I am only starting to fill in some details. Can you help me?” He raised his wineglass and drank, swirling the wine around in his mouth as he watched her face. He was no stranger to interrogation techniques.  “Alright, Miss Fisher, budding reporter.  You may ask ten questions, but I will only answer ‘Yes’ or ‘No.’ No elaboration. Will that satisfy you?”

Phyrne pouted and then smiled in delight. She loved flirting with Jack, and mental games were delicious.  She decided to keep it light.  Even during the investigation into Miss Lavendar’s death they had been able to match wits and keep each other smiling.  “Let’s go into the parlor.  I think Mr. Butler has set out some whiskey for us.”  Jack followed her shimmering gold jacket out of the dining room, but he paused to look back at the two candles, burning brightly at the table. It was fanciful, he knew, but the candlelight had made a difference to him.  She had known that he needed to ease into it, one candle at a time, and he was grateful for her patience.  “Good riddance, Mr. Lin,” he thought, as he turned to find Phryne, waiting for him in the door of the parlor.

“Alright, Miss Fisher.  Do your worst.  Question 1?”

 

 

 


	2. Ten Questions, and Not One More

Chapter 2

Ten Questions and Not One More

“Jack, I know we usually sit in here, but would it be alright to use the small parlor instead?” “Yes,” he said. “Good.  I received a package today from New York – some new music that I am anxious to hear.”  He took the heavy decanter from the tray, and she picked up the tumblers. Jack was not sure that he had ever been in Miss Fisher’s small parlor, and he looked around the room as Phryne poured their drinks.  Lavish decorations, of course, and deep, confident colors.  Jack accepted his glass with a smile and continued to look around. He felt off balance again, here in this cozy, private room, where she surely entertained her gentlemen visitors.

“Here, help me open the wrappings.” Phryne was opening a box reverently. She took out a phonograph record. “Fats Waller.  His latest.  I have a friend in New York…”  Jack took the record and brought it over to the phonograph.   Phryne settled herself elegantly into an armchair. Ripples and rills of piano filled the air, and Jack felt his fingers twitch at the memory.  When had he last played?  He couldn’t even picture himself playing their piano since Rosie had moved out of their home.  Was it his piano, or hers?  What would happen after the divorce?  He suddenly thought that he would ask her if he could keep it.  The trumpet came in, and then Mr. Waller himself:

 

_No one to talk with_

_All by myself_

_No one to walk with_

_But I’m happy on the shelf_

_Ain’t misbehavin;_

_I’m savin’ my love for you…_

 

The lyrics seemed so targeted, so personal, to Jack that he blushed and turned away from Phryne.  She was drinking her whiskey pensively.

 

_I know for certain_

_The one I love_

_I’m through with flirtin’_

_It’s just you I’m thinkin’ of_

_Ain’t misbehavin’_

I’m saving my love for you

>

_Like Jack Horner_

_In the corner_

_Don’t go nowhere_

_What do I care_

_Your kisses_

_Are worth waitin’ for_

_Believe me_

_I don’t stay out late_

_Got no place to go_

_I’m home about 8_

_Just me and my radio_

_Ain’t misbehavin’_

_I’m savin’ my love for you…_

 

Phryne’s foot tapped against the floor as the percussion instruments paced insistently.  Suddenly Jack felt a bit younger. 

Phryne was ready to play her game. “Jack, I know a bit about your dramatic career, and I’ve seen your indifference to art, well portraiture, at least.”  He wanted to object. It was true that he had been tongue-tied at the sight of her as a nude, but he had seen more than a bit of artistic merit around the edges of his vision.  “I am curious,” she went on, “to know about other forms of expression. Are you musical?”

“Yes.”  He smiled.  She was enjoying the game, but not the rules.  “Oh, Jack. I must know.  Will you let me guess?”  Again, he smiled.  “Yes.” Phryne took a long, deliberate look at his mouth, and then moved her gaze slowly down to his hands. “Let’s see.  I will have to use my imagination.”  She closed her eyes and leaned back against her chair. Jack could hardly breathe at the sight of her secret smile.  His own imagination was running wild.  What was she thinking about?  It must be something sinful, but was he a part of those wicked thoughts?  With a sip of whiskey he watched her face, waiting. “I am going to use my powers of deduction, Jack.  I saw your fingers tapping against your legs, following the progression of piano notes.” She grinned in delight as Jack saluted her with his glass. 

Phryne stood and returned to the phonograph, and the music began again.  When she returned to him she brought the decanter.  “This music always makes me long for a gasper, but I gave them up on the way out from England.  Something about the sea air.  I found that I didn’t want them anymore.  But this music … Were you ever a smoker, Jack?” He grimaced.  “Yes.”  And, then, because he pitied her curiosity, and because it was nice to have someone to talk to, “Oddly enough, it was a sea voyage that did the trick for me, too. I threw my last smokes overboard as we pulled into the Melbourne harbor.  I don’t think I knew at the time that I was giving it up, but I found that I couldn’t bear the smell of them.  Sometimes, in the trenches, it was like breathing fresh air to smoke.”

Phryne nodded.  He was grateful, again, for her peaceful way of understanding him. She was more like a comrade, at times, than a companion.  “And now,” he offered, to his mild surprise, “I feel so fit.”  He stopped, then.  He sounded like an idiot, and he retreated into his drink.  Phryne was not deterred.  “I enjoy a brisk swim, myself, to stay fit.  Although, I must say, that it is really difficult to get up any speed at all in my bathing costume.  Some mornings I just leave it on the shore.  I am all alone, anyway, so there is no one to see.  Don’t you like to swim, Jack?”  “No. I mean, Yes, I do like to swim.” He was losing a bit of control in this game.  He could easily imagine Phryne, walking into the surf, completely naked, and diving fearlessly beneath a curving wave.  Could he imagine himself there, with her, diving after her, and coming up for air with an armful of smooth, pearly white skin?  No. He could not even be that brave in his dreams. 

Jack stole a look at Phryne.  She was smiling like a cat.  He knew that she was enjoying the game and its effect on him. He was getting confused – the music, the whiskey, her perfume.  All of his senses seemed to be heightened.  Phryne uncurled her legs and started to unbuckle one of her sandals. What was going on? She removed the second one, and began to massage the arch of one of her bare feet.  “Let’s see, Jack.  I have not even begun to learn enough about you to fill a page in my notebook.” He tried to follow her words closely, but his eyes were drawn to her strong fingers pressing into her foot, over and over again.  Abruptly he stood, and her shocked eyes followed him up. “Jack, it’s early!” He nodded.  “If you would excuse me for just a moment?” She smiled in relief.

Jack stood in the washroom, breathing heavily. He could not remember a time when he had been so aroused in such an inappropriate circumstance. It was ridiculous! He was not a 13-year old boy anymore. He should be capable of sitting in the small parlor, with Miss Fisher, just answering her questions, without losing his control in this way.  He splashed water on his face and dried it with a linen towel.  Once cooled down, he adjusted the line of his trousers and came to a decision.  He removed his suit coat – it was strategically important for him to stay in command of his body, and his internal temperature was affecting his brain.

Phryne greeted him in the hallway, and they walked back to the small parlor together.  Mr. Butler had brought a tray of coffee and biscuits.  “Would you like some coffee, Jack?”  He didn’t answer at first.  Whiskey or coffee?  It seemed to be an important decision.  “Yes. Thank you, I’ll have some coffee.” He thought she looked a bit disappointed, but he could only see the set of her shoulders as she turned towards the small table.   He felt a bit let down, too.  He thought of the song, of the lyrics that seemed to describe him in such damning detail.  

 

_I don’t stay out late_

_Got no place to go_

_I’m home about 8_

_Just me and my radio_

 

He thought he would like to make it up to her, somehow, and he gave her a dazzling smile as she brought his coffee to him. She looked startled, but happy, and she smiled freely in return.  “Let’s see, Inspector.  Where were we? We’ve covered the arts and sports, our vices … what about virtues?  Tell me about those trophies in your office.  Did you earn them yourself?”  He let out the breath he had been holding.  This he could handle.  “Yes, Miss Fisher. Those are my trophies. And, I will even tell you about them without the need for any more probing questions.”  He thought for a moment, remembering which trophies he had placed, without much deliberation, on his shelf so long ago. “Those trophies are for racing, before the war, of course.  I was a long-distance runner then.”  Phryne smiled as if she had known that about him all along.  “I didn’t have much time for training once I became a police officer, but I kept at it.  I was really only a local champion, you know.”  He didn’t want her to think that he was overly proud of himself.  “There are only so many hours in the day, Inspector, for training and for keeping the peace, both home and abroad.”  Jack looked up at Phryne.  He had not spoken of his married life to Phryne, but somehow she had pieced it together.  He knew, in a guilty way, that he had left Rosie and their unhappy house behind on his long cross-country runs.  “Still, Jack, it’s quite something to be a winner, so many times.  You must have enjoyed winning a bit.”  He nodded. “I did.  I loved it.  But, that was a long time ago.  I don’t really –“ Phryne interrupted. “And, the physical exhaustion, Jack.  There is nothing like that feeling when you are boneless, when you have given everything you have to the moment, when you have pushed yourself to your absolute limit, and then, at last!”  She gasped aloud, and then her voice dropped to an intimate tone, “you release everything, in waves, washing over your body.”   Jack swallowed, with difficulty.  Phryne leaned back in her chair, and slowly raised her coffee cup to her lips. She eyed him over the rim, and then raised an evil eyebrow, before breaking into her familiar, free laugh. “Don’t you agree, Jack?” He looked at her carefully. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

Jack finished his coffee, with some regret. He could not imagine any way that a polite gentleman could stay there, in her parlor, after finishing coffee, without sending a particular message that he was definitely not ready to send. He stood and watched Phryne as she realized that the evening was coming to an end.  “Do you have to go, Jack? I have other records here in the box.” She was already turning towards the box as he answered.  “Yes. I have to go.  Another time, perhaps, Miss Fisher.  And, please give Mr. Butler my compliments.”

As they moved towards the parlor door Phryne stopped and put her hand on his arm.  “But, my questions!  I haven’t finished with you, Inspector! I have one important question that I would like answered before you go.  Do you remember what you said to me in Miss Lavendar’s office, when I asked you about the furrow in your brow, whether it was there because of kissing me?”  He stilled, in the process of putting on his suit coat. “Yes.”  She continued.  “And you said to me that you didn’t kiss me, that you were trying to protect me.” They were at the door, and he put on his overcoat, thinking furiously.  He knew where she was headed, and he knew that he had to be very careful. “Well, Inspector, I have to assume that you do not normally go about protecting your witnesses with such passion. So, was that a special occasion?” Phryne held his hat in her hands, as if she were holding it for ransom depending on his answer.  Very gently he took the hat from her hands. “I’m sorry, Miss Fisher, but I cannot answer that question tonight.”  She looked up at him inquiringly and he put his hat on.  “You’ve already asked ten questions, and I have given you ten answers.” He smiled, to soften the effect, and she smiled back, but he could tell that she was surprised that she had lost count along the way.  “Very well, Inspector.”  Phryne was a good loser, at least on this occasion.  “We will have to resume the inquisition another time.” 

Jack drove slowly away from the curb and turned the corner, still thinking about Phryne.  No one had shown any interest in him for so long, and it felt strange to think that she wanted to learn more about him.  He wondered if she noticed that every one of his answers had been “Yes,” and wondered if she would be clever enough to guess that he would have answered “Yes” to her final question, if not for the rules of the game. He slowed down at the edge of Phryne’s property and looked back at the house.  He could see the window of the small parlor. The lamp was lit, and the window was open.  He could hear Fats Waller again, and he could see Phryne swaying to the music as she collected their coffee cups.

 

_Your kisses_

_Are worth waitin’ for_

_Believe me_

 

Jack shook his head.  It was as if Fats Waller could read his mind, somehow. He hummed the tune again as he released the brake and rolled away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looked up the song "Ain't Misbehavin'." It was released by Fats Waller on August 2, 1929. I know that I am cutting it close here, but I think that Phryne would have had a pipeline to the new jazz releases from New York, don't you?


End file.
